


Dinner Break

by StarshipRangerBoyWonder



Category: Welcome to Night Vale, mcdonalds - Fandom
Genre: I repeat, Kentucky, M/M, Night Vale, Not, One Shot, also chanukah is fine except in night vale where all holidays are tradgedies, does, exist, fic lit, kentucky does not exist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-05
Updated: 2013-09-05
Packaged: 2017-12-25 18:20:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/956239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarshipRangerBoyWonder/pseuds/StarshipRangerBoyWonder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cecil's in desperate need of some food. Lucky for him, Carlos comes to the rescue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dinner Break

**Author's Note:**

> ficlet awwwwwww

“The Sheriff’s Secret Police have issued a warning today,” Cecil Baldwin read off the paper that had just been handed to him by a faceless stranger, who was curiously wearing a pair of sunglasses. Curiously, because he had no nose. “‘The Sheriff’s Secret Police would like to warn all Night Vale citizens against **Kentucky**. The City Council, after much discussion, has finally established the Kentucky does _not_ exist. Anyone or anything that insists that Kentucky does in fact exist should be shunned and _angrily_ disposed of.’”

 _Gu_ **r** _r **rg** g_gl _e_ e **e** _e **ee**_

Embarrassed, Cecil blushed and thanked the Heavens that most certainly did not exist that no one could see his face through the radio. Cecil, blond hair dangling over the purple skin mark between his eyebrows that mimicked the outline of a third eye, cleared his throat and chuckled nervously into the microphone.

“My apologies, listeners,” he said clearly. “Do not become worried by those noises. Chanukah is months away from now. That is, months away if you believe in things like time and the future. Anyway, back to the warning; ‘if you or someone you know is in possession of Kentucky paraphernalia, merchandise, or memorabilia, you are advised to paint yourself Toilet Ring Orange with just a hint of Lemon Scented Mexican Brand Sponge Yellow, stand out on your front porch, and beat against a medium sauce pan with a wooden spoon. The offensive objects will be disposed of in the morning by city officials. Keep in mind that any mistakes made in paint colour or pan type will result in – ”

GUu **ru _r_** _Rr_ gl **ll** _l **lEEEeaEE**_

The faceless stranger raised a judgmental eyebrow at the radio announcer. This was strange, because he had no eyebrows. Cecil rubbed thin, tan fingers against the purple mark on his forehead in aggravation. He had become very good at controlling himself while one air. The radio personality turned his head from the microphone and groaned in misery.

“Listeners, I cannot allow to leave you in this metaphorical darkness anymore,” Cecil announced. “Going on a tangent here, I feel the need to explain these strange noises, because I can almost _hear_ the clanking of glass, Chanukah antidote bottles being lifted from their shelves. Put those bottles back, listeners, and allow yourself to mock relaxation.”

GUR **RR _R_** _RR_ RR **R _GLE_ E**EE

“Oh, my, this is embarrassing,” he giggled shyly, looking away from the faceless stranger. “Despite my usual tendency to not speak very much about my personal life, I must anecdote to you for explanation. You see, listeners, last night I went out with Carlos. Yes, perfect, sweet Carlos who subconsciously blows his hair out his eyes instead of brushing it and I went out last night on another date. It has been a while since I announced the two of us were in an officially established relationship, now that I think about it. Five months, actually. Does that deserve a gift?”

Cecil shook his head, successfully shaking away the pink tint on his cheeks. Stay on topic and get it over with.

“Let’s get right back into it; Carlos and I were at the Desert Flower Bowling Alley and Arcade Fun Complex, because, as most of you know, it was ‘Couples Half Off asterisk must pay full price Night,’ so we were among many other couples out enjoying full priced fun and ignoring the tiny spears that continually erupted from lane five pin retrieval. We shared a Coca-Cola flavoured ice cube float and played three striking games of Dance Dance Revolution Four. Carlos beat me twice, but _kissed me_ when I won. I drove him home; he did in fact invite me inside to ‘check out’ his ‘beakers and test tubes’ in his lab… Consequently, I got home rather late.”

The crimson colour returned to Cecil’s face, diffusing over his neck, cheeks, and ears. The faceless stranger laughs at him, which is peculiar, because he has no mouth. Cecil pointed towards the door, and the faceless stranger left through it, still laughing peculiarly without a mouth. Cecil’s new intern, who was temporarily replacing Dana, because _someone_ had to get coffee and fight off blood sucking desert pucker fish, was giggling as well. Dana _never_ would have been so rude (or added the wrong amount of raccoon milk to his coffee).

“I prepared myself to feign sleep,” continued Cecil, “and remembered I needed to contact the City Council and submit the standard end of date report. Because it had been ‘Couples Half Off asterisk must pay full price Night’ at the Desert Flower Bowling Alley and Arcade Fun Complex, the phone lines were very crowded, and I ended up waiting for five hundred and seventy two renditions of Grow a Pear by pop artist Ke$ha before I was able to submit the standard end of date report to the City Council…”

“I know what you’re thinking, listeners!” he laughed. “‘Cecil, you _knew_ you had work tomorrow! Why didn’t you ask Carlos to submit the standard end of date report to the City Council?’ My darling, perfect Carlos had submitted the standard end of date report to the City Council the last two times, _and_ I couldn’t bear to make an intellectual like Carlos have such a song like Grow a Pear by pop artist Ke$ha stuck in his head when he could be thinking of other things like clocks or _our_ song: Magic Works from the Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire Soundtrack. It was only fair I submitted it. That’s how relationships work.”

“We are all aware, as I mentioned it earlier, that there was a breach in time last night, and we repeated one forty-five AM three times. This confused me terribly and I woke up horrendously late at 2:30 PM! I had not only missed breakfast, but I also missed lunch! And now, dear listeners, I am sitting in my booth at seven PM with half a show left for myself to do with an empty and growling stomach organ that insists on recreating the noises of Chanukah. In short; I am starving.”

From the general vicinity of where the door to the booth was, a familiar and angelic voice wafted into the microphone and Cecil’s perked ears, “You poor soul!”

“Carlos!” Cecil gasped, spinning about to face the handsome scientist who had entered his booth. “Listeners, it appears we have a special guest in the booth today! My adorable, angel voiced, loving Carlos! Sweetheart, what are you doing here?”

Carlos walked over and pressed his lips to Cecil’s as a form of intimate greeting, the smacking of their lips separating being picked up by the mic and echoing around Cecil’s booth. Carlos, familiar with his partner’s workspace now, pulled up a spare chair and sat beside his boyfriend. “I was listening at the lab,” he explained, “and I felt horrible that you were starving so much that your stomach sounded like Chanukah.”

“So you came to visit me?” Cecil chuckled, tangling fingers in his partner’s luxurious hair. The other man leaned into the touch and sighed contently. “I appreciate the gesture, but it doesn’t satiate my hunger.”

“I brought you a bite,” announced Carlos, brandishing a bag from his lab coat. It was a paper bag, singed at the edges, oozing green gloop, and sporting golden arches. The radio personality squealed and hugged Carlos tightly and dramatically.

“Thank you!” he squeaked. “Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!”

“Don’t mention it.”

Happy, no, overjoyed, Cecil began biting into the black, burned chicken nuggets that he had dipped into provided sugar honey. “I hope you all have someone as delightful and caring as my Carlos, Night Vale,” he gushed, eating around his words and somehow chewing but still talking perfectly clear. “He’s brought me McDonalds for dinner! My Carlos. My precious, perfect Carlos took time from his busy schedule to get me McDonalds and bring it here to me!”

Carlos stayed. There were things to do at the lab, sure, like thinking and repeating the same experiment over and over, getting an answer, then continuing to do the experiment because they had nothing else to test. Lots of thinking, of course. But nothing made Carlos happier than sitting in on one of Cecil’s shows. It was utterly delightful to watch the other man’s lips move and hear his clear cut voice. Cecil talked slow enough to understand every word he uttered but fast enough you didn’t mind, and it was fantastic. Carlos adored that voice, whether he hear it in the kitchen over a bowl of Lucky Charms, on the radio, or in the bed room late at night – he adored it.

His stomach full and bag empty, Cecil silently passed his meal container to his partner to be disposed of. The dark haired man smiled softly and threw it away as quietly as he could while Cecil relayed traffic. Apparently, a duck had given birth to a hammer head shark and they were _still_ trying to remove it. A part of Carlos lusted to be there and perform tests so that he might now how and why it happened…

And another part of him lusted to kiss Cecil’s mouth really bad.

“I’ve seen pictures of the hammer head, and can I just say it looks…” Cecil was cut off immediately by Carlos’s thick lips pressed around his own thin ones. “Mmmph!”

“Mmm… mmmm… mhmmm…”

“Uh… uh… C-Carlos, I have t’ugh…”

“Don’care…”

“… Hunf!”

“Gaah…”

Cheeks pink and haired mused, Cecil stretched around and pulled himself to the microphone. In the midst of heated gasps and moans, he spoke, his voice broken for the first time in history, into the mic, “Le-et’s go to the Weather, sha-all we?”

Approximately four minutes later, the last notes of the weather died out, and Cecil was expected to speak again. His cheeks were a rosy colour, eyes hooded, and ears sprinkled like red tomatoes. A dumb smile was plastered on his face while he swayed to and fro.

The replacement intern waved his arm to signal that they were on air, and Cecil waved back in a daze. Into the mic, a little louder than necessary (but still crisp and clear), he sighed happily.

“I love my boyfriend.”


End file.
